


A Dog Called Chorizo

by TipsyEpsy



Category: Coco (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-25
Updated: 2018-04-25
Packaged: 2019-04-28 00:15:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14437290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TipsyEpsy/pseuds/TipsyEpsy
Summary: Xoloitzcuintli dogs were probably, if not definitely, the least graceful breed of dog on the face of the earth, so it only seemed natural for Hector to be reincarnated as one.





	A Dog Called Chorizo

Xoloitzcuintli dogs were probably, if not definitely, the least graceful breed of dog on the face of the earth. They were goofy looking, often a bit on the skinny side with lanky limbs and crooked tails. Their ears were pretty large and the few strings of hair on their body were bristly, not at all soft and cuddly like larger more fuzzy dogs.  
They weren’t annoying, like chihuahuas tended to be (and god were there a lot of chihuahuas in the neighbourhood!) but they certainly looked odd. People just associated the image of man’s best friend with something of the likes of a labrador retriever, with it’s soft pale fur and happy-go-lucky attitude, rather than this ratty looking hairless breed.  
No, Xolo’s were not at all on the top list of grace…So it only seemed natural for Hector to be reincarnated as one.

In his previous life, Hector had been a good example of a Xoloitzcuintli in human form. He wasn’t overly large, tall yes, but lacked musculature and remained on the slim side since his childhood.  
He always had a bit of a goofy appearance, his hair a bit of a messy mop and his ears and nose were certainly large, which made him look comically angular.  
In youth he’d regularly tripped over himself, the only smidge of elegance to him being the movement of his bony fingers as they strummed the chords of a guitar.  
It truly did make sense that now, in this second chance at life, he could have only ever been a dog, and it certainly made all the more sense that he’d be the most pathetic looking dog in the whole of Mexico.

Hector, or Chorizo as he was now called, was a skinny mutt with a notched ear and broken tail. He had a lot more hair than he’d ever seen on a hairless xolo, including a patch on his chin reminiscent of the goatee he’d had as a human. His teeth were a bit crooked and he limped ever so slightly due to a bad fall he’d suffered when he still lived with Chicarrón.  
All of him was as bony and pitiful looking as it had been in his previous human life.  
But, despite all this, Hector did not lack in cunning as he did in appearance.  
If anything, he was probably the smartest dog in the whole neighbourhood.  
While the other pooches ran around chasing their own tails, burying bones and just generally living an exhilarating life of obliviousness, Hector spent his days doing his very best to help his family. And, while his options were quite limited, he still managed to do a good job at keeping them fairly happy, even if he had to pretend he was nothing more than a dumb little xolo stray.

The sun was only just beginning to rise when he was roused from sleep. Looking up from his perch on the foot of Coco’s bed, Hector yawned lazily and climbed off before stretching properly.  
Today would be another one of those boring days. Imelda would go to the market while her brothers watched after Coco, and then later when she returned they would switch places so as to take him on his morning walk. Then they’d come back and work in the workshop while Hector would keep his daughter some company, play with her, sing her their song (or at least attempt to keep the tune as he howled).  
At lunch they would sit around the table and Hector would probably try to get some food scraps with his doggy charms, and then they’d all go to walk him before returning to the workshop. Coco would go shine some shoes, he would follow her, and then near sundown they would both return home and have dinner. The usual routine.  
Still, repetitive or not, Hector was up for it. As long as he could be with his family, he’d endure hours upon hours of waiting and shoes.

Trotting out the door and heading for the kitchen to wait for his breakfast, Hector greeted Pepita, Imelda’s cat, as she made her way down the stairs.  
“Hola Pepita. Que tal fue tu noche?” he asked in between a yawn, slowing down just so that the gray tabby could catch up.  
“Could have been better. The Sanchez’s cat kept screaming outside Imelda’s window again, that unnerving vagabundo!” Pepita hissed, fur bristling slightly as she picked up her pace in irritation. “Parecía un cuervo moribundo! Horrible!”  
Hector snorted at this, which earned him a glare from the agitated feline.  
“He still hasn’t learned that Imelda has the sharpest aim in all of Mexico?” He asked, which made Pepita snort in reply before she shook her head.  
“No amount of thrown boots and shoes seem to discourage him.”  
“A cat after my own heart. I was very much the same when I first courted your owner…Which probably sounds terrible coming from a dog.” Hector noted with a frown. “Who so happens to be called Chorizo now…Yes definitely sounds terrible.”  
Pepita laughed in response, nodding in agreement to his words.  
“A dog who smells like a human. Cualquier animal puede ver que no eres todo lo que pareces.” she reassured, reminding him of how she’d received him on the first night he’d spent living under the Rivera household as a dog.  
At first she’d been wary because he hadn’t felt at all like a common dog, then she’d been confrontative when she found out his identity, and then she’d allowed him to explain. Afterwards she’d come to an agreement with him.  
Pepita would tolerate his presence as long as he did no harm to her family.  
“Maybe an animal yes, but any other human just thinks I’m un perro tonto.” Hector said with a sigh. He didn’t dislike his new life, but he certainly wished he could do more than just play and howl and run around all day. He wanted to be able to provide for his family and play music for his daughter and wife. Things a dog simply couldn’t do.  
And the worst part was that he had no one to talk to other than Pepita. As it turns out, barking didn’t convey his emotional turmoil as much as it made Imelda or the twins raise an eyebrow and roll their eyes before giving him a piece of food to quiet him down or open the door so he could go outside.  
People couldn’t speak dog. And Hector could no longer speak people.  
“Oye, ánimo Chorizo! You will find a way.” the tabby chuckled “You have gotten this far.”

The two entered the kitchen, the sun already shining it’s rays in through the window. Soon enough Imelda would be up preparing breakfast for herself, Coco and the twins.  
She would also feed the pets, as she diligently did every morning. Then she’d let Pepita out for her morning walks and let Hector out into the backyard to run around and do whatever before his usual walk.  
“I have, by luck alone. I spent a long time thinking I was just a dog before I actually remembered who I was…” Hector looked back at those times. They’d been simpler, calmer. Chicharrón had been his only family then.  
But now Cheech was gone and Hector really had to stop pretending he was Chorizo the dog when he was actually Hector Rivera, the murdered husband.  
Still, that identity suited him now, at least until he could somehow expose Ernesto’s crime.

The memories haunted him, his own death and his supposed best friend’s betrayal. But there was at least one glimmer of hope.  
In his attempts to cover up what he’d done, Ernesto had been careless. Rumours of a body and a few gossipy housewifes was enough to get Imelda’s attention. She’d written a letter inquiring about his disappearance and Ernesto had stuck his foot in his mouth and made up a lie that required him to come all the way back to Santa Cecilia just to keep Hector’s murder a secret.  
The result was hilarious in the end.  
Ernesto had accidentally given Hector’s songbook to Coco who now kept it on her person 24/7 which meant the burly man had to constantly visit to try and steal it back.  
This of course meant that once in a while, Hector had a shot at trying to expose him for the monster he was.  
Of course, so far he’d failed. But so had Ernesto.  
“I missed a few years playing puppy to a hardened mariachi…While that cabrón ran around with my guitar and my songs…”  
“For a week. When he came in saying you’d gone “missing” and said the only traces left were the songbook, he couldn’t ever get it back. Coco is a crafty girl, she keeps it safe.” Pepita chuckled “Makes that despicable man play the fool any time he tries to get close enough. And now you are here and he knows he can’t do anything as long as that preciosa niña has her “perro rabioso” around~” she exclaimed the last part as dramatically as she could, mocking Ernesto for how he’d described Hector when he first tried anything while he was around.

It had been at least three days after his journey from Chicharrón’s home town to Santa Cecilia. Hector had been exhausted, and was still overly pleased with his success at getting Coco to convince her mamá to let him stay.  
At the time he hadn’t been aware that Ernesto was a common visitor, nor that Imelda was at all in speaking terms with him, so it had gone as well as one would expect.  
Hackles raised and teeth bared Hector had barked and howled in fury, keeping himself between his murderer and his daughter.  
This had alarmed Coco and even Imelda who’d reconsidered her choice, before the twins intervened.  
“He’s still new to the house!”  
“He only knows us Imelda!”  
“Ernesto must have spooked him!”  
“I’d be spooked too if a large man came at me out of nowhere!”  
“And look, he looks like he’s trying to protect Coco!”  
“Maybe he was a guard dog before?”  
They had certainly saved him from being through out.   
But, ever since that day, Ernesto had tried to avoid him like the plague. He didn’t particularly like big or medium sized animals. Specially not dogs.  
He was more of a chihuahua kind of guy (which, again, Hector could not understand why, they were terrible dogs!).  
“Perro rabioso? Was I frotting at the mouth?” he asked jokingly, eyebrow dramatically raised in an exaggerated expression which only made the tabby laugh harder at the situation.  
“Hardly. And even if you were, I am afraid De la Cruz could not see it between his cowering and his shivering!” She exclaimed. “I have never seen such a large man so scared of a Xolo before!”  
It was indeed comical. Xolo dogs were after all, not particularly intimidating.

Their discussion was interrupted by Imelda’s arrival in the kitchen. Soon enough her presence was enough of a distraction for them to drop the subject for now and follow her around as she began her daily routine.  
And, after being fed and let outside as usual, Hector and Pepita went their separate ways as they usually did.  
Routines were a big part of the Rivera family’s day to day life. It wasn’t how he’d imagined things to be when he was still human.  
He also did not imagine that he’d spent a great part of his life trying to ensure justice was met and that Ernesto paid for what he’d done to not only him, but his family as well.  
Still, Hector would manage.  
Even if now he was a dog who everyone called Chorizo.

**Author's Note:**

> I absolutely loved this idea and decided to have a go at writing something with it. I had to think of a reason for Ernesto to keep in touch with the Riveras, so I pictured that in this AU Imelda ended up prying a bit as to her husband’s whereabouts and that Ernesto ended up fumbling and accidentally screwing himself over by saying Hector went missing without a trace and by giving Coco Hector’s songbook, which the girl now keeps on her 24/7 because it’s so dear to her. His reason to keep coming back is to try and steal the songbook back so he can go off on the road and try for fame. I donno, it seemed funny enough.  
> Also, apologies for the terrible spanish. I’m portuguese which kinda facilitates with traductions a bit, but considering both languages are still fairly diverse you can imagine I had difficulty writing some of it just from memory.
> 
> This AU belongs to the lovely lavonathon and you can find out more through this link http://lavonathon.tumblr.com/post/172326874678/so-reincarnation-au-this-is-based-really-heavily


End file.
